


If Smiles Could Speak

by McLeodCorner



Category: Leverage
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Torture, not really relationship ship but brotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLeodCorner/pseuds/McLeodCorner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As per request by the wonderful chibicheeberson, I got to write an amazing hurt/comfort fic where Blackpoole breaks out of prison and kidnaps Sterling to get back at them for ruining his life. Do enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Sterling stepped out of his car and into the darkness surrounding the driveway. He yawned as he fumbled with the keys to his house, using the full moon to find the right one. Interpol had him working late...again. More paperwork always needed to be filled out and since he was in charge of the branch, he had to be the one to do it. The lock clicked and he pushed the door open with a sigh, not bothering with the lightswitch before heading upstairs to his bedroom. Once he went into his room he flicked on the tv. Slipping off his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, a breaking news report appeared on the screen. Three convicts had escaped from a prison. Sterling froze when the mugshots flashed on the screen, one of them being Ian Blackpoole. He reached into his pocket for his phone and pulled it out, but as soon as he unlocked it a gloved hand clamped down over his mouth and yanked him backwards. The phone fell from his hand and a muffled yelp slipped past his lips against the hand. A needle was jammed into his neck and he tried to struggle out of the hold, but he could already feel the effects taking it’s toll. Jim’s eyelids started to droop and he began to lose his footing, falling backwards onto the person restraining him. Unconsciousness pulled at the edges of his vision and dragged him under.

\--------------------------------------

“Dad?” Olivia called out as she stepped through the door and into the foyer. His car was in the driveway and the front door was unlocked so she let herself in when he didn’t answer.  She just assumed he was in the shower, or fell asleep. The house was eerily quiet as she walked through it, peeking in every room for her father. None of the showers were running and he wasn’t anywhere on the first floor. She went upstairs and paused in front of his bedroom door, puttin her ear to the wood. Voices were coming from inside so she pushed it open quickly, not bothering to knock. The voices turned out to be the tv and her eyes darted around quickly, spotting his phone on the ground along with an empty syringe. Her breath quickened as she picked up the phone, unlocking it and sifting through his contacts until she found the name Nate Ford. Olivia remembered him sort of helping her and her dad before at Dubai. She hit call and waiting for him to answer.

“What do you want Sterling?”

“This is Olivia. I need your help, Mr. Ford.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I’m was just visiting for the weekend and when I got here my dad was gone. His car’s still here and the door was open, but I can’t find him anywhere.” She stammered quickly, her hands shaking.

“Woah, slow down. Start from the beginning.”

“Well, I was dropping by for the weekend from college like I usually do and when I called ahead he didn’t answer but I figured he was just at work of something. Then when I got to the house his car was in the driveway and the front door was unlocked so I let myself in when he didn’t answer. I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find him. All I found was his cell phone and a needle.”

“Was there any sign of a struggle? Or any labeling on the needle?”

“No, the house seemed pretty untouched.”

“What about the needle? Is there any labeling on it?”

“No. There’s nothing on it.”

“Alright, come down to the pub, bring the phone and the needle. We’ll work out a plan.” As much as the team disliked Sterling, there was no way they were just gonna hang him out to dry. “Don’t worry Olivia, we’re gonna get him back.” Nate said determinedly before hanging up to call in the team.

\----------------------------------------

An undetermined amount of time later Sterling started to stir. Wherever he was it was pitch black and freezing cold. If he could see, he was certain he would be able to see his breath evaporating in front of him. He tried to move his arms but found his wrists bound to the chair he was sitting in, one on each armrest. After a quick tug he realized his ankles were in the same state. Panic starting to rise in him, tripling when a voice sounded from behind him.

“He’s awake.”

Sterling froze at the broken silence. He quickly ran through a list of people that want him dead. Gulping as the list went on and on. A lot of people were in prison because of him and it’s no secret he has a ton of enemies that aren’t behind bars either. His list finished and he still couldn’t put a face to the voice. Steps neared him from behind and he shrunk into the back of the chair, hunching his shoulders. The bag was ripped off his head, flooding his vision with a dim light. Jim blinked quickly to let his eyes adjust to the single fluorescent light swaying above him. After his vision focused he looked up and saw Blackpoole standing in front of him, along with two other very scary looking, buff men. The two men were wearing black jackets with prison tattoos poking out of their collars while Blackpoole had a typical suit on along with a black tie, standing with a smug smile across his face. Sterling felt tiny as he looked up at them from his chair..

“Hello Sterling.” Blackpoole spoke confidently as he bent down to speak at Jim’s eye level, his hand clasped behind his back. “Remember me?”

“How could one forget you, Ian?” He replied, his hands growing sweaty as he clenched them into fists.

**  
**“I made a few new friends during my stint and offered them the chance to work out some of their pent up anger if they helped me escape. You know I don’t like to get my hands dirty so we came to an arrangement very quickly.” Blackpoole’s grin grew as one of the guys stepped forward and grabbed Sterling’s shirt collar, clenching a fist next to his face. He straightened out and turned to leave, pausing to speak over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few hours, have fun.” The door creaked open and then shut with a loud crash, leaving Sterling alone with the two escapees

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sterling scoured the room to find anything to give him an edge, something he could use as a weapon. He strained his ears hoping to hear a train or boat to try and give him at least some idea of where he was. Hell, he’d even take just finding another exit other than the metal door across the room as a victory. After wasting a few extra seconds darting his eyes around frantically and coming up with nothing, he realized he could have been out for hours after they injected him; they could be three states over by now. There was no way he was going to be able to figure out where he was from his current location in the center of the room, handcuffed to a chair by his hands and ankles. The room itself was just a concrete floor with a huge crack in the left corner that looked like someone slammed a sledgehammer on the ground, paint-chipped cinderblock walls, and a very ominous and sadistically promising hook hanging from the rafters. There were no windows throughout the entire enclosure and the only entrance was through a rusted metal door standing directly across from him. He exhaled and slouched in the chair, accepting that he was stuck here until someone figured out he was missing and tried to look for him.

Jim tried to stay still and attract as little attention as he could while the others were digging through a duffel bag. They were talking quietly amongst themselves and not really paying him much attention-- not that he could really go anywhere due to the tightness of the restraints. He tried to eavesdrop in on their conversation to try and figure out what they wanted so he could start making a plan but they kept their voices low. Leaning back in the chair, he silently hoped that this would be one of the days Olivia would visit him. She knew what Nate and the group did so hopefully she’ll figure out he was gone and go to them for help. They would help, right? They had to; Nate wouldn't just leave him here, not without at least attempting to get him out. Sterling tried to convince himself they would come and save him, but it wasn’t as though he was all that helpful to them in the past. He’d sabotaged and manipulated their plans, drugged Eliot, tried to get Nate to sell out his team. He even forced them to blow up their first hideout. The more he dwelled on it the more he started to think that they would just leave him here, his fate handed over to thugs working for Blackpoole. A shudder worked its way down his spine. No, if Olivia went to them they wouldn’t turn her away. If he just clung to that thought, he might be able to get out of this in one piece. His head perked up when he saw the guys across the small enclosure turned and started walking towards him.

“So, the boss wants to know where Nate and his buddies are hanging out nowadays. The way I see it, is you can just tell us now, we’ll be on our merry way and you save yourself a lot of pain,” the shorter of the two said, twiddling a switchblade in his hand.

“The way _I_ see it, is that you can go right to Hell,” Sterling snapped, glaring up at his captors. He barely had time to react before the blade found itself lodged in his left thigh, biting his lip to hold back the yelp working its way up the back of his throat. Trying his best not to squirm, he let out a small grunt while the shortest thug twisted the switchblade further into his leg. A wicked smirk was plastered across his face, confident that he would break him soon. Some blood started to drip down the corner of Sterling’s mouth from how hard he was biting his lip. His tormentor gave the blade a final twist and left it lodged in his thigh, motioning for his partner to bring him something.

The taller one tossed him a set of brass knuckles and after situating them on his fists, Short Round- as Sterling decided to call his anonymous tormentor- swung his fist directly into his stomach. Sterling choked on his breath and hunched forward, panting and coughing. The other moved behind him and grabbed his hair, yanking him back upright and held him still. Fists connected with the side of his face next. After a couple of particularly hard hits connected to his face his vision started to blur a bit, making him blink rapidly to try and recollect himself. Another punch made contact with his gut and he heard and felt a sickening crack echo throughout the mostly empty concrete room. Sterling cried out and hunched over despite the tight hold on his hair. Inhaling hurt like hell, and some blood splattered out of the corner of his mouth when he coughed, resulting in a sharp pain radiating from everywhere at once.

“Where’s Nathan Ford?” Short Round snarled in his ear, tugging him back upwards. Jim tried to ignore the darkness creeping at the edge of his vision while the two men stared him down. They were obviously waiting for an answer he wasn’t willing to give. The shorter one knelt down in front of him, grabbing his chin and tilted his head up so they looked eye to eye. Sterling squinted at him in defiance, his mouth in a tight lipped straight line. He barely flinched when Shorty went in for last one punch across his face.

After returning to the duffel bag, he dug through it again for what seemed like hours to an injured Sterling. He turned around holding a cloth and a gallon jug of water. His associate walked over and took the cloth, moving behind their prisoner. Jim yelped as the taller one yanked his head back by his hair 90 degrees and held the fabric over his face. A few seconds later water started pouring down over it, effectively cutting off his air flow. Sterling’s body tensed up and tried to move away on instinct despite his binds. He attempted to breathe and began to choke and cough, spurting out any inhaled liquid. Water kept being dumped on him for what seemed like forever, making him think that they might actually let him suffocate. Not long after, the towel was ripped off his face. He only had time for a few short breaths before it was back over his face and the water was being poured again.   
  


Jim barely comprehended anything the other said over the sound of his own choking. After another half a minute the towel was ripped off and thrown to the side and the hand holding his hair let go and thrust his head forward. Panting and gasping for breath like a drowning man, which technically he sort of was, Jim just stared up at him in silence. A hand came towards him and smacked him across the face, splitting his bottom lip even more than it already was from the previous beating. The right side of his face stung like hell and he could practically feel the bruises forming as blood dripped from his lip. Rings of red were dripping around his wrists from how hard he was pulling on them earlier, digging into his skin and making them burn from contact. He tugged on the handcuffs around his wrists and ankles a few more times before slumping in his chair, deciding to save his strength for the unpleasant things to come. Fatigue was already starting to drag him down but he refused to let it show and give the others the advantage.

The combined temperature from the room and the water was chilling him down to the bone. He couldn’t stop from trembling and shivering no matter how hard he tried. Blood dribbled down his chin and dripped on his battered suit, peppering it with stains blotched by the water. While he sat there, feeling like a prisoner waiting for a death sentence, the other men were wiping off their hands and scheming again across the room. Jim started to feel the ache of his wounds, making it difficult to take a full breath unless he wanted something to stab his lung. His eyelids started to droop as exhaustion began taking its toll, occasionally his head would loll forward for a second before he could bring himself back to the land of the living.  Just as he felt like he was about to pass out, Short Round walked up to him and grabbed his middle and ring finger on his right hand, bending them all the way backwards. He screamed and tried to pull away but the cuff chain wouldn’t have given him much distance even if he was strong enough to pull away from S.R.’s grip anyways. Sterling screwed his eyes shut to hold back tears and whimpered in the back of his throat quietly, silently hoping the other would let go of his fingers, very soon.

Short Round threw his hand roughly against the arm of the chair after a few agonizing moments and made his way back to his partner. Sterling sighed in relief, sinking into his chair and trying not to focus on the steady throbbing of his now broken fingers. He let his head drop forward, closing his eyes, letting sheer exhaustion take over.

\---------------------------------------------------

It was the Christmas party at IYS. They were all gathered in the basement where refreshment tables were laid out, along with a buffet and of course, a wet bar tucked away in the corner with a bartender tossing bottles in the air and filling glass after glass. Sterling was talking to some of his other co-workers for a while, but quickly broke away when he saw Nate walk in with Maggie looped arm-in-arm.

“Merry Christmas!” Sterling walked over and did his normal ritual of giving a hug and peck on the cheek to Maggie and a handshake to Nate before making their way over to the bar to grab their usual: two scotches for Nate and Sterling while Maggie opted for a white wine. They talked about how their son Sam was doing, work, some new things they’ve heard on the news for a while until they heard a glass clinking and turned their attention to the source. Ian was standing on a pedestal, champagne glass and fork in hand, readying for an announcement.

“It’s time for the secret Santa exchange!”

Sterling grinned and reached into his pocket, watching as his coworkers all floated around, giving each other finely wrapped presents, an orchestra of different forms of gratitude drifting across the room. He didn’t have time to wrap his, but Jim figured the recipient wouldn't mind, plus it was already kind of in a box anyways. He turned to Nate, finding him alone, Maggie being across the room getting another drink at the bar. He pulled the box out and presented it in front of him, tilting his head to the side.

“Merry Christmas, Nate.”

Nate smiled and grabbed the black box from his friend's hand, weighing it out for a second before opening it. He gasped when he saw it, mouth held open in a small ‘oh’. The band was silver and fit perfectly when he slipped it on, setting the box on the table next to them. The watch face was open so you could see all the moving parts ticking away. The roman numerals were a dark navy blue that seemed almost black, along with the hands.

“Wow Sterling. This is amazing. I love it.” He reached over and pulled the other into a hug, catching him by surprise.

“Glad you like it,” James replied, patting him on the back after regaining his composure.

“I’ll be right back. I gotta get something out of Maggie’s purse.”

Sterling gave a nod as Nate scampered off to hunt down his wife. He leaned against the table idly wondering who got him while waiting for Nate to return. After downing the rest of his drink he turned back around from setting his glass on the table to Nate standing in front of him, holding a red wrapping paper wrapped box in his hand.

“What’re the odds, huh?” Nate asked, amusement in his voice. Sterling scoffed and took the box, carefully shaking it a little before starting to peel it open. The gift was inside a label less cardboard box, intriguing him further as to what it was. After tearing off the tape sealing the opening at the top, he reached in and pulled out a tumbler. It was crystal by the looks of it, with little squares carved in going up about halfway around the circumference the glass. Then coming out of the design on the front, there was a knight chess piece carved in as well and next to that there was a little _J. Sterling_ in a white cursive font engraved next to it. Jim smiled- not the one he used for clients or when someone told a joke he didn’t think was funny but you’d smile anyways to be polite- but a real, heartfelt smile. Even though it was a pretty simple gift, he could tell Nate put a lot of thought into it.

“Sorry I uh- didn’t go as far out as you did. If you don’t-”

Nate didn’t have time to finish before he was pulled into another hug.

“I love it.”

“Great! Well, let’s put that to use then! C’mon this round’s on me,” Nate beamed, throwing an arm around Sterling’s shoulders and leading them towards the bar.

Sterling was snapped out of that memory as a punch connected with his face, dragging him back to the present. He smiled after he recovered from the hit. The tumbler was still sitting on his counter at home. It was his favorite one; he used it all the time at home. The smile was quickly wiped off his face when a hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, meeting Blackpoole’s face. He didn’t remember exactly when Ian came in, most likely during his blackout.

“They aren’t going to come for you James. They’re criminals. _Dirt_. They don’t care about you and they never will. Just give us the location. End this. No one knows you’re gone. Olivia is sitting in her dorm right now, doing homework, with a nice sniper rifle aimed at her pretty blonde head.”   

Jim mustered up enough strength to sit up straight and lean in just enough to spit the blood pooling in his mouth all over his previous boss’ face. He slouched back on the chair and let out a dry, empty laugh. Ian motioned for the taller brute that has barely said more than five words forwards and whispered something in his ear. He moved behind Sterling and started to take off his right handcuff.

“You ruined my job,” Ian began, pacing in front of Jim. “My reputation, and basically MY LIFE! I don’t want to have you killed, but so far you’ve been trying my patience. You weren't my main problem, James. It’s Ford and his merry band of misfits that I’m after. But now, I think you are one of my problems.” He gave a curt nod to his associate and Sterling felt his arm being twisted backwards, causing several cracks and snaps to echo off the walls. Jim screamed and tried to pull away but the other had an unrelenting iron grip on his wrist, clinging to it like it was a lifeline. Waves of pain were being sent down his arm and shoulder, making tears build up in his eyes. He managed to hold them back until now, but when the other twisted his arm up a few more inches, he lost it. Blinking away the tears, he felt them work their way down his blood encrusted face, dripping off his chin and landing on top of the previous blood drips.

“WHERE’S NATHAN FORD?” Ian screamed in his face, spit flying everywhere. Sterling just whimpered quietly, trying to retain some fraction of his dignity while attempting to focus on something other than the searing pain in his arm. Ian’s fist pulled back, swiftly connecting with his cheekbone in an instant. He curled his fist around Jim’s collar and jerked him forward; pulling further against the other’s still steady grip on his arm. Sterling let out a long groan while Ian took in deep breaths, preparing himself for the next rant.

Instead Ian unlocked the other hand cuffed wrist and hauled the shorter man to his feet, causing his wounded ribs to shift and dig into his lungs. Sterling cried out, stumbling along when Blackpoole pulled him towards the hook hanging from the ceiling. With the help from the other, they recuffed Jim and hung him from the hook with his feet a few inches off the ground. He screamed at the new constant strain on his dislocated shoulder along with the cuffs digging further into his already irritated wrists.

While Sterling was preoccupied with the pain throbbing throughout his body, Ian came back with a baseball bat. He sent the other out with a sharp wave of his head.

“We’re going to have some alone time, James. Get to work out all my pent up anger.”

He swung the bat, hitting Jim directly in the side. Sharp cracks radiated through the room; from both the bat and the prisoner. Five more swings made contact with his ribs before Ian paused.

“I’ve been waiting years for this. Sitting in that prison cell, counting the days.”

Another swing connecting with his knee. Tears were freely pouring down Jim’s face, dripping to the floor and mixing with the blood puddle steadily growing.

“No one knows you’re gone and even if they did- they don’t care. You are just one less person to compete against in the office. They probably wouldn’t even miss you if you never showed your face again. Olivia’s in college, Nate’s got his group of thieves, Hell, even I’ve got new employees. What do you have? Your job?”

Ian tossed the bat aside and punched him in the stomach.

“A name plaque chiseled on the glass pane of a door?”

One more punch directly to his throat, effectively cutting off his breathing and sobbing.

“Those are just _things_. No one is going to save you. No one is going to notice one more name on the missing persons list.” He pulled Sterling impossibly closer to his face, articulating his next words very pointedly. “You. Are. Alone.”

Jim was still heaving from the past hit when Short Round burst through the door.

“Ian! Someone’s coming up the driveway!”

Blackpoole let go of Sterling’s shirt and started to step away, but shopped short and delivered one last extremely hard punch square in the face, effectively knocking out whatever small sliver of consciousness he had remaining.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Sterling stretched out in the cramped front seat of the company’s car, brushing the soft roof with his fingertips and pointing his toes. He let out a small yawn before getting back into a comfortable seating position. Nate and him had been driving around to different clients all day; denying most of them their claims because of small loopholes that no one would think to check for. Denying the large, corrupted fortune 500 companies never really bothered him- the rich saps could afford to cover their own asses. Now, denying the average Joe who was living paycheck to paycheck, that was always harder, and almost all of today’s clients were those cases. Over the course of the day it started to drain both of their moods.

Nate turned the engine off once they pulled into the final parking lot of the day. He reached behind him and dug through his suitcase for the file belonging to their client- Mr. Ross. Thankfully he was one of the richer clients they had. A file was tossed onto Sterling’s lap and he looked over to see Nate sifting through an identical copy.

“His vacation home burnt down, along with a collection of valuable paintings that were inside. He wants the money to cover it but he was only signed on with IYS for valuables inside of his actual home, not his vacation home.” Nate explained, flipping through pages of legal writing and things underlined in red ink.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”

“Agreed.”

Both agents slipped out of the car and smoothed out their suits before approaching the front door of the Ross residence. The gravel driveway crunched under their shoes as they approached the massive dark oak door. Sterling took a quick glance around the massive, immaculate property before rapping on the door with his knuckles. They only had to wait a moment before the door opened, revealing a spacious foyer with two spiral staircases leading to a second floor.

The owner was average height will slight muscles revealed through his navy blue polo. A five o’clock shadow covered his cheeks, accenting his cheekbones. A woman was by his side in a light red floral dress, looking expectantly at them.

“Can I help you?” Mr. Ross asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“We’re from IYS.” Jim stuck out his hand, “Sterling. Jim Sterling.”

Nate did the same, “Ford. Nate.”

He gave them each a small nod and shook their hands with a steady grip.

“Now Mr. Ross-” Nate began.

“You can call me Scott.”

“Alright, Scott. We’re here to inform you that-”

“You have my money, right?” Scott interjected.

“Well, no. You’ve been denied your claim.” Nate explained.

Both of the Ross’ face fell into a grimace. “That can’t be right. There must be a mistake.”

“There wasn’t.” Jim stated flatly. “And you have our deepest sympathies from IYS. Have a good evening.” Anger flooded Scott’s face as they turned away in a hurry to get home. He reached forward and spun Sterling back around to face him.

“Well what’re we supposed to do? Those were priceless paintings!”

“That’s not really our problem now, is it?” Jim snapped, prying the other’s hand of his shoulder. He barely had time to react when Scott’s other fist sailed towards him and connected with his jaw. A sharp scream broke through the otherwise quiet night.

“Scott! Stop it!” His wife cried, yanking on his arm, attempting to pull him away from the agent now curled on his side on the ground. Nate pushed the client away hard, preventing any more kicks to Jim’s ribs, before standing in between them.

“Back off!” Nate held his arm out, palm facing forward to keep the towering man a safe distance away. His partner was heaving on the ground, arms wrapped around his middle. A small amount of blood dripped on to the porch from his mouth.

“If I see anyone from your company anywhere near my property again, I’ll kill ‘em!” Mr. Ross shouted as his wife dragged him into the house, slamming the door shut. She shot them a forgiving look through the window next to the door before shuffling deeper into the house after her husband.

Nate bent down next to Sterling, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was still heaving and his breath was pretty ragged. Gently, he gripped his shoulder and pulled him into a seated position despite his groan of protest. He looped his arms under Sterling’s armpits and hauled him up. He groaned loudly, leaning heavily into Nate’s steadying arm.

“Very smooth, Jim.” Nate said, beginning to take small steps towards the car, practically carrying Sterling down the driveway.

“It didn’t come out,” Jim panted, “the way, I wanted it to.” He exhaled loudly as he dropped down into the seat, tucking his legs in the car so Nate close close the car door.

“You don’t say.” Nate remarked as he slid into his own seat and starting the engine. He looked over at Sterling. A streak of red was smeared on his chin and his chest rose and fell unevenly. “Let’s get you checked out at the hospital.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sterling let his head loll against the window while Nate sped away from the house and towards the nearest the hospital.

****  
  


Short Round burst through the door, snapping him out of his haze. Rapidly, he yanked Jim’s jaw ajar and shoved a cloth into his mouth, making him gag. Before he could react a piece of duct tape was put over his mouth and  he swiftly made his way back out of the room; leaving Jim alone.

The gag was uncomfortable in every way. It absorbed what little saliva he could still produce after going so long without water and made him gag loudly every couple minutes. It tasted like blood and Jim couldn't figure out whether it was his own or old, dried up blood from the rag.

A few minutes after short Round left, a commotion started to rise outside the door. It began sounding very faint but as time droned on it got closer and closer until it sounded just next to the door. Sterling tensed up, thinking it was most likely Ian back for another round.

He heard the door creak open and feet shuffling around towards him.

Somebody looped their arms under his legs and lifted him gently up a few more inches. They unhooked him from the hook and set him down on the ground. The amount of sudden motion caused Sterling to moan and whimper. He whined in the back of his throat from the movement of his broken jaw when the tape was peeled off and the cloth pulled out of his mouth. Now the blood began rushing back through his dislocated shoulder, broken wrist, and hands from being elevated for so long, causing his face to screw up in discomfort. A warm hand found itself on his face and someone was quietly whispering to him.

Sterling’s ears perked up at what he thought was his name but he couldn’t really focus on anything other than the pain coming from his body. He knew unconsciously he wasn’t hanging off the ground anymore and his body sagged against the wall in relief. Through the fog of confusion, he heard a voice calling his name repeatedly. The voice sounded so familiar… but he just couldn’t put a face to it. He willed himself to pry open his eyes in order to survey his surroundings.

After an agonizingly slow minute of twitching and groaning, Nate was rewarded when those familiar whiskey eyes opened up to gaze at him. They were  dull and clouded instead of having their usual glint in them. Despite that, they were the eyes of Sterling nonetheless. Nate let out the breath he was holding while waiting for his friend to wake up and smiled softly. If his friend weren’t so injured, he might have even risked giving the man a hug.

“Na…ate?” Sterling’s voice was barely a whisper and his eyes fluttered trying to regain their focus. His throat and mouth felt impossibly dry like he hadn’t had a drink of water in years.

“Don’t worry Jim. You’re safe now. We’re going to take care of you.”

Nate might have said something more but before he could answer Sterling closed his eyes and slipped back into blissful, pain free unconsciousness, latching onto one word.

**Safe.**

 


End file.
